A Fifth Season is a place of pause to grieve the death of my first and only child. A season characterized by reflection on the big stuff and the little stuff that this mom encounters as I parent the memory of my child, and my child, in loving return, parents my heart.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Well, it's here. The day when the blog has reached an end of usefulness and healing. I no longer feel free to write from my heart. Once I began to know the people who were reading in real life and their belief systems of religious, political, and family make-up, I naturally began to censor my thoughts or apologize for expressing myself truthfully when I thought it would offend. At times it's come to feel like a one-way-communication vehicle for others to read my thoughts, make judgments about me, without reciprocation. That's by design, it's what the blog e-life is set up to do, and I voluntarily engaged in it. But, I decided that those who wish to know what's in my heart, and may know me in real life, that we will have to go back to engaging in real conversation.

I'm closing it down after a couple of days so that those I've met online might catch my words of gratitude, because I only know you in the e-world. Thank you for being a supportive caring community--one I didn't know existed until I made myself vulnerable and took a chance to "write it all out there."

Finally, remembering my daughter, Caitlin Anne always, and thanking her for parenting my heart since her birth and death. She and I will continue the journey together, but I can no longer share that journey in this manner. Peace dear friends and family. Always, peace.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

I've been thinking hard about civil discourse.after coming back to this site today, I wonder that I went to far. Offended? Put off? Frightened? Dissapointed?

It takes little effort not to try to change the landscape. Just blame "them" in private. I tried to participate, but not to blame, but show that violent rhetoric is unnacceptable.
I think my error was to identify myself as is often referred to as the "somewhat left of center" and choosing hate speech from the "far right." Although I reversed the image, the damage of providing the labels and putting it in context of left and right was done.

I still vow to be peaceful in my discourse with others. I still aim to denounce the violent rhetoric and images when I encounter them despite the group they come from.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

So, I'm quite moved by the death of 9-year-old Christina Green. I'm moved because no child should die because they are interested in government. My daughter died because she wasn't born healthy. No human-error or misjudgment can blamed. But Christina died because someone chose to target a political figure.

I used to ignore the rhetoric, thinking that it was extreme. But, in fact, I've decided to make it personal. I found this image,

and decided to put my face in the color that I best represent

I have family and close friends who would likely most identify with the other side, and I would (though because I didn't ask permission--I didn't) put one of their faces in the other. The image in abstraction is interesting, but when you make it personal it brings home the meaning of the extreme rhetoric. My siblings or parents would not actually shoot me because of my political leanings, but this image suggests they would.

What would it feel like if the image were reversed?

Not much better. The message. We must agree to disagree. We must agree to use our words and not violence to sway another to a point of view. We must embrace the difficult, challenging, and complex journey toward peace.

Peace, Please, Peace.

Take a look. Where would your image go? Are you comfortable with this rhetoric? How would you change this? Will you continue to participate? Is this an adequate expression of those you "hate"? Of those you love?

[For those who may ask . . . I am not a socialist. I reject the label applied to our president. One need only review High School civics to discover that our president is a centrist. There---full disclosure. But I don't deserve a gun to my head for those views. And if you disagree with me, neither do you!]

[Oh, by the way, that's a pic of me watching a release of balloons at my daughter's grave.]

The life of Christina Green was ended in the shooting in Tucson, Arizona, yesterday. A friend of mine created a Facebook group for those who will pledge to be civil in their discourse. For those who will agree to disagree and promote using words and not violence to sway a point of view.

Christina was interested in government. No child should die because she was interested, at nine years of age, in participating in government to make the lives of others better. Christina's life needs to mean something to us, the bereaved community, perhaps, it can mean civility. Consider joining the group, Christina's Pledge" on Facebook, a group that will include those who may disagree with you, but will also pledge to do their best to avoid rhetoric that takes civil discourse to violence.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Rabbit Hole is a movie getting some press lately about a couple whose son dies. I thought I might go see it, but didn't want to sit and watch another mis-informed stupid story about how the death of a child results in some happy ending--a happy ending that "normals" write, because they don't understand this life. You know, the one where some event or gift of life "fixes" them.

I saw an interview with Nicole Kidman, who said she didn't talk to bereaved parents because as a parent she could use her own emotions. Well, OK, but you can't know these emotions through the fear of the worst possible event in your life--ask a bereaved parent. Rumors swirl that she may understand because she had some miscarriages. Ah, well, I wonder at whether that should matter to me if it's a useful story.

I watched the trailers and thought, well, maybe it will be a comforting depiction. It was snippets of echos of some of my experiences. Especially the first group meeting I went too, when parents 8, 12, and more years out than me were sobbing.

Then I found the screen play, and read from beginning to end. It's good. It makes sense. So, I tried to find a theatre "near me," and well, although the horror movies and the violent sex thrillers are easy to find--a drama about the death of a child without blood or intrigue or the devil's spawn, just wasn't to be found near me.

God, we are all too afraid to feel anything real, and so we see movies to feel the extremes of what isn't real. I think it's like an anesthesia.

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Live the Questions Now

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now....—Rainer Maria Rilke

Pure Silence (Rumi)

I have come this timeto burn my thorns,to purify my life,to take up service againin the garden

I come weeping to these watersto rise free of passion and belief

Look at my face. These tearsare traces of you.

From "Thoughts Matter"

When tears come, I breathe deeply and rest.I know I am in a hallowed stream,where many have gone before.I am not alone, crazy or having a nervous breakdown.My heart is at work.My soul is awake.

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Words of Comfort & Hope

"See I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared." (Exodus 23:20)

~Marcel Proust

There is no more ridiculous custom than the one that makes you express sympathy once and for all on a given day to a person whose sorrow will endure as long as his life. Such grief, felt in such a way is always present; it is never too late to talk about it, never repetitious to mention it again.